Genesis of Apotheosis

[Guu]

“Come on! I only had a day with you and take off? You’re worse than Gildarts!” Yelled Molly over Guu’s phone, which rang in her earphones. “At least give me two days to be with you!”

The princess was soaring over the trees of the tangled. It was true, only a little more than a day had passed since her trip into the Elven woods; her mission to kill evil parasitic flora. To be honest, she would have welcomed the break if she hadn’t learned about the new visitor to her lands.

“You’ll have plenty of time to chill with me when I get back.” Guu reasoned.

“And then as soon as you get back, you’ll have to run off towards another mission, or go on another diplomacy thing! I never get to see you anymore!” Molly said, her voice cracking as tears rolled down her cheeks. “Am I not important to you?”

Guu sighed.

‘This is what I got for letting people into my life.’ She thought.

She wished she was this cavalier about it though. She really did feel bad, like, really bad. But something about going to see Tearen made her want to maintain some level of her old self. She knew the guy was enlightened now, but she can’t shake the image of something along the lines of how she was before the Omniverse. She really wanted to make a good impression.

But that mindset was only going to bite her in the butt if she allowed it for the rest of this phone conversation.

“Look, no one is more important than you, don’t forget that. The only reason I’m prioritizing Mr. Wover is he might take off before I see him...” She began, but froze. She felt her gut fighting back to the words she was about to say. She was almost never this honest, she only let her guard down for Gildarts before. “Tearen worked for my father before the Omniverse. While I hated my dad with a passion, I still want to have some sort of positive connection related to him.”

Molly was silent on the other end. Guu felt gross inside. She really hope that putrid bit of honesty was enough to satisfy her adoptive daughter’s concerns.

After a minute or so to wipe away her tears, Molly finally responded.

“Okay, I understand.” She said solemnly. “But when you get back, give me way more than two days, okay?”

“Of course, and all the mochi you can eat.”

“Really?”

“Well, unless if Sylvia says otherwise.”

For the first time in the conversation, Molly chuckled. It was good sign to Guu’s ears.

“Well, have fun with Mr. Wover then. Please come back as soon as you’re done!”

“Of course”

“I love you.”

Molly hung up. Guu gave one last sigh, this time one of relief. She was glad at least she didn’t have hell to come back to when she got home.

Again, she wished she was that cavalier. Really, she was genuinely worried about Molly, but now’s not the time for empathy, now is the time to get into the zone; the “impress the eldritch being” zone.

Her headphones unplugged themselves from her communicator. The bud melted into her ear as the cord was sucked up like spaghetti into her skull. She swallowed her phone whole and then focused on making good time.

The morning sun had fully risen by the time she arrived at the temple. As she flew in for a landing, she couldn’t help but admire Tearen’s digs. She sensed every inch of the place, feeling the the runes on the pillars, the water dripping from the fountains, even paid attention to the people occupying it. Oddly enough, she could only sense so many, and Tearen was nowhere in sight. Either everyone just took off already, or a lot of people had suppression. If the latter is the case, then some ninja really have some role models in this temple.

One of the students she could sense made her smile slightly, Gamzee was here. He was always fun to be around. She was glad it wasn’t a place so stuffy they wouldn’t let the clown in. But she couldn’t help note that the clown was currently asleep. Along with everyone else that’s currently asleep.

‘Why’d I have to leave so early?’ Guu asked herself. To be honest, she never checked what time it was. It’s easy to forget it’s dark out when you have senses.

Well, considering she was in a new place and all the occupants are asleep, she did the only sensible thing she could do: turn into a fairy and hide in one of the drawers until someone wakes up and rummages around for breakfast. She fell asleep on one of the spoons, hoping to be rudely awakened by someone’s startled yelp.

[Dane Regan]

Red, Blue, and Green were all calmly sitting at the conference hall of Dane's mind. This room consisted of a mostly undescribed room. Unbounded and lacking definitive properties. There was, however, some consistent scenery. A large oak table suitable for seating at least a dozen more people than the three personalities. A large steel safe sat in one corner of the distorted space, a lit fireplace along one of the walls with a bucket in front of it, mechanical - yet shadowy - claws and tendrils covered the floor. Thin strings trailed from the limbs the three personas, all pulled tautly and connected to a large brain. Large enough to encompass the whole not-finite sky, yet it still visibly appeared to have an apparent size. 

Contrary to their names, Red, Blue, and Green all lacked any actual colour, all appearing as different shades of grey. Most of the realm was like that, the fire, the table, the brain, everything besides three key things were all black, light grey, or somewhere between. The first of these things was a glowing orb in the centre of the table. While it only provided illumination as colourless as the world it resided in, the actual sphere itself was peppered with the vibrant colours of Dane's real surroundings. Regardless of the viewing angle, it always showed the same 3D image at a given point in time - what Dane himself could see. The second of these colourful objects were the faint, translucent wisps of smoke blowing away from the orb. Each, despite visually being a gas, carried a distinctive sensation. Some were sounds, others were smells, and some were just feelings of physical warmth. Some dispersed, others were caught in floating jars and shoved into the vault.

The last bit of colour was in another corner of the room, locked in a small cage. It was a pink humanoid figure, with stripes of yellow - akin to someone falling into a pit of mixed paint. It rattled the tight grey grating but no sound was heard. Grey blood dripped through its gloopy body, meshing with the colours temporarily before sinking through the floor.

In essence, the usual.

Blue was scribbling down notes, scrunching them up, and throwing them over his shoulder. Some landed in a bucket, which was routinely moved mechanically to be emptied into a large safe, most just landed on the floor or in the fire. Green and Red were conversing over something trivial, occasionally involving Blue or writing notes of their own. Most written and spoken was unrelated to the situation at hand, although some comments did concern Maru. Just speculation on who she was - Dane saw no particular use for her, but the basic task of following her cooking instructions prompted the circulation of thought.

His arm brushed against her. It may have been an accident, or it may have been a strange lingering instinct brought forth from his interactions with Tearen. Regardless of the reasons, it happened.

A new vibrant orb, this one radiating rays of grim, yet colourful, light, materialised above the old one - it fell down upon it, phasing through and eventually covering it with new visual information. Despite the presence of Red, Blue, and Green, it seemed to focus its light upwards - towards the floating brain.

Time seemed to pause within the realm as the vision poured out the information it had to offer. The room absorbed all of it. Not by any deliberate choice of Dane, however. The lack of control in the matter was frightening, so much so that outside the realm of his mind, blood drained from Dane's face, leaving it a stark white. Paper notes materialised out of nowhere, flying into the vault - forcing their way in through small cracks around the edges. A previously unseen figure, this one a skeleton dripping with white 'paint', began reforming in yet another cage, only to be shattered by the resulting shockwaves of Dane's mental 'sanctuary' being unexpectedly violated - even if he himself was the one taking information. Subconsciously, he began to realise Tearen's point. In a strange way, he liked the rush of information.

Yet, it was just unknown. All impulses and instincts could be suppressed, trained, made useful.

For the first time in a while, Dane's mind was silent. Inactive. A dull pause as it lagged behind, still absorbing the somewhat traumatic events. Those weren't his memories. Those were hers. Maru's... or Malon's.

...and she was talking to him. 

Dane was perfectly capable of analysing and thinking in real time during an event, but the sudden rush of information had left his mind behind on its scheduled workload. 

So Dane did what Dane did best. 

Ignore it. 

Focus on what you can do, not what you can't. If he didn't have a way to deal with something, he wouldn't bother with it. It'd just nag on his mind until he found a way to bury the issue so it'd never surface, or did something about it. Probably not the best mindset, but it avoided delays. It hadn't failed him so far, after all. At least in the sense that he hadn't died because of it.

Putting on a superficial grin, he continued his allocated job - trying to crank the gears of his mind. 

In general, his thought process was fairly simple. Initially, he didn't care for the contents of the vision - her hardships were not of his concern. What he really wanted to know was what happened, why it happened, how he could make it happen again, and how he could prevent it from happening. It was different from when his mind was connected with a strawberry. Here there wasn't a mutual link, he'd absorbed memories from someone else, and he hadn't felt anything leave him. Although, reasonably, she hadn't felt anything leave her. 

He eventually came to the conclusion she'd simply been remembering the event by herself, and while doing so, due to its intensity, he had passively leeched off it. Perhaps his mind had simply been tuned into the invisible network, or whatever made Tearen's powers work, and touching her had been a catalyst of sorts. It followed that, since no key memories or thoughts were present in Dane's tightly locked mind, she shouldn't have got anything from him. And if she did, he doubted she'd have been able to hide that unless it was something more trivial - like a memory of him studying. But that wouldn't explain her reaction. He continued with the assumption that his original conclusion was correct - they'd both simply shared her memory.

There were other notable ideas on the subject, most of which couldn't be confirmed or refuted. One he found more interesting was the proposition that he, himself, had actually induced a memory in her accidentally. Or that he had the ability to do that, should he practice. The latter extrapolation he deemed to be likely, but the core concept he filed away for later. Given the contents of the memory and how it could easily relate to Tearen's projection of the future, he figured it was unlikely. If his mind was previously wandering to a similar place, he figured such a thing could have been possible, however. Due to the often scattered nature of his thoughts, it wasn't rare for him to make a calculated decision and simply forget about it - or pass it off as an accident or instinctive habit.

Idly, he continued mulling over what happened, trying to poke holes in his assumptions through use of the grey puppets within his mind. In the end, he figured it was best to rest on it. Leave it as something to experiment with and come back to later.

Dane's body found itself laying on a sloppily made hammock by the time his mind got around to reviewing the actual snapshot of Malon's past. He'd replayed it in his mind idly a few times, but after his first viewing, he realised he didn't really care. At least, he didn't care about her past in the sense it'd make him feel emotionally different about her. Then again, he never tended to feel much emotion towards anyone besides amusement, sometimes respect - and he couldn't really get those from a victim. 

Green frowned at Red and Blue. "Are we seriously trying to find a way to exploit her with this? It's wrong."

Blue paused the replay, mechanically turning his head towards Green. "No. We're trying to determine if it's worth using her, for anything."

"It's still wrong."

Red glared, drawing a knife on a piece of paper. "We used Clownpiece and Cirno in Dante's Abyss to survive longer. Neither of them ended up worse off because of it."

"That's different."

"How so?" Blue quizzically grabbed hold of one of his eyebrows, pulling it off and raising it above his head.

"It was a mutually beneficial relationship. A friendship. We helped them as well."

"That implies we wouldn't be of use to... Maru... in this instance." Blue shrugged, shoulders temporarily disconnecting from his gloopy body.

Angrily tapping the paper he was holding, Red turned his gaze to Blue. "That's fucking presumptuous of you." He stood up, slamming a fist on the table. There was no sound from the action, nor did the grey wood shift. He continued in a mimicking voice. "Hey look. I'm Dane Regan and I totally care about you. Because I care so much, I'll let you use me as an emotional crutch." He spat black paint to the side, a tendril caught it and slapped it back on Red's leg. "As if, dude."

Blue pivoted towards Red, calmly answering. "That wasn't what I intended. I meant that we could easily use this to create what she'd call a friendship. We don't know what she's capable of - even the most broken of tools can still be used to whack someone on the head, regardless of its intended use. Consider it a cheque to cash in on a rainy day."

"'Easily'," Red scoffed. "Look at Mr. Confident over here. Remind me, how many 'friends' has Dane actually had?"

"It's not hard. It's just talking to someone until you reach some sort of mutual understanding. We're not attempting some new magical breakthrough here. Don't blow everything out of proportion."

Green spoke up, "Fine, I guess I agree with you - in actions, not ulterior motives."

Red reached into his paper, pulling out the dagger and throwing it at Blue. A shadowy tendril caught it, sending it back the way it came. It cut through Red's body, leaving a large slice unproportional to the blade size. His right shoulder and arm fell off, falling through the floor. More tendrils reached out, tearing off other parts of his body soundlessly - he struggled, flailing the limbs he had, but found his body pinned in place by the strings from above. Some phased through the ground, others were tossed into a previously unnoticed pile of grey painted limbs. It was large, but the addition of mass caused it to shuffle slightly, revealing a clump of red which was quickly covered.

Green and Blue both ignored this, acting as if both 'Red' and the pile never existed. It was an irrelevant construct solely built around the representation of irrationality and anger, neither of which Dane intentionally acted on.

Despite the somewhat twisted drama of his mind, Dane shortly drifted into a dreamless sleep, hammock rocking ever so slightly.

[Tearen Wover]

Guu was rudely awakened the following morning as her drawer was yanked open sharply. Tearen's face, large and dark, loomed above her with a stern expression on it. It took him a moment to register what he was looking at, but when Guu's unmistakable eyes started to drill into him, his expression softened.

"Oh, it's just you, Princess." the Shadow said, taking a step back from the drawer of cutlery. Guu made a large show of stretching in a nonchalant manner, taking the time to scratch her rump before responding.

"Just me...yeah I guess that counts as a hello." her tiny voice buzzed. Her wings pulsed slightly as she rose into the air, and the huffy abomination of a girl placed her hands on her hips.

"You could have told me you were gonna set up shop next to Ambrosia; lightshows are nice, but unexpected ones can cause quite a stir in town." Guu said, her voice carrying an honest edge. Tearen offered her a friendly yet unapologetic smirk.

"Surely, the people of Ambrosia are used to oddities around your village...but, I apologize if things have gone amiss. Is that the only reason you were sleeping on our forks, though?" the ex-enigma asked, draping a heavy brown robe over his previously half-naked form. Green eyes gleamed out from under a low-sinking burlap hood, and the entire cloak bequeathed an aura of age, weariness, and wisdom. His disciples were scattered around the camp, some sleeping, others up and buzzing. The only reason that Malon was not in the kitchen with them was that she had trotted off to forage for morning mushrooms near the groves downstream. Tearen came very close to having pity for the poor young lady; she didn't deserve the horror of what this morning would hold...but then again, she had certainly made up her mind by this point.

They all had.

So it was no small question to ask why Guu had come. Of all the people in the Omniverse, she would surely knew the sort of lessons and teachings Tearen was trying to impart. This mystery was only punctuated further by the outward signs of the Princess's obvious discomfort.

"We need to talk about my father. Your uh...previous Master." Guu said, grinding her feet into nonexistent ground beneath her. Tearen's reared his head back slowly in a gesture of comprehension. How auspicious that, on the morning following his confession, Guu should arrive to talk about the very entity that had lead him down this checkered path in the first place. The Shadow turned towards the door and walked out through the swishing muslin drapes that covered it. Tearen walked towards the center of camp, where the granite gazebo stood resolutely, as it had for half a week now, but without the garish blast of green light searing the clouds above. There was no need for it; those who had come would serve his designs adequately. Guu seemed to understand the implicit request for her to follow, and she buzzed along next to his ear.

"What would you know?" Tearen said in a hushed tone. The two would stand there talking until the disciples had assemble, or at least, those who were ready to be quickened to their power. Perhaps not all would come. Perhaps that would be best. Either way, it would behoove them to take great heed of their own wisdom this morning. They were about to change forever.

[Guu]

It didn’t take long for Guu to realize that they were going to have company. She figured Tearen wanted to include his students into the discussion.

Yeah, it would be easier if they both knew the story.

Guu flew up into the air, then in a flash of magical light, she floated to the ground in her normal size and attire.

“I better get you caught up.” She said, followed with a sigh.

“What do you mean?” Asked Tearen, but his question was answered a mere moment after.

Suddenly, he could feel Guu’s presence in his senses, as if a curtain had be dropped, or a mask had been taken away. Taking this as a sign, he used his abilities to read into the girl.

He saw her statistics, her abilities, her name, all flashed before the inside of his eyes. But little did he realize, she was giving him way more than what his power usual allowed.

Little did he know, he was there. Suddenly, he was in deep space, beings, flesh composed of tentacles, ravaged, decayed. Three of them swam around in the distance, the fourth loomed over him. His expectations penetrated him, the creature’s intent absorbed into him like osmosis. He was looked upon as the agent of chaos, a tool of his own design. If his mind hadn’t been attuned to this, he would have gone mad.

Suddenly, he ran. He ran into the inky expanse. He ran to the only place he could hide; Earth.

He would spend centuries there, alone. He saw the likes of the elder gods. He saw endless jungles that he would eventually call home. He used his powers to create a strange creature called the “pokute.” But for the most part, his life was nothing but emptiness and solitude.

Until he came across a human child. He would take the form of a child himself, thet adopted him into their home. He saw the years go by, them living as a family unit, dealing with the insanities that surrounded him.

Then he had to say goodbye to the child. Through a twist of cosmic fate, he was called back to his creator, possibly to his death.

He saw Omni again, heard that speech once more.

He befriended Desco, he befriended a samurai. He fought Gilgamesh on the streets of a rural Tangled Green village. He watched Ambrosia grow before his very eyes. He fought in the first ever DA, and left it by his own volition. He quested for the yellow star piece, and fought an evil tree.

And now he was a fairy, sleeping on spoon.

Guu’s suppression had only been down for less than a minute, but it felt like centuries had passed. It took a moment for time to normalise in the man’s head. With his mental training, it didn’t take long to get his own sense of identity back.

“I apologize for springing my dad’s face on ya without warning. I kind of figured you could see him without breaking.” She said as if seeing the outer gods in person was a mere inconvenience. She twisted her arm in a swirl in the air. “There’s a reason I tend to keep my past to myself. So many minds just can’t take it. Ya know what I mean?”

[Kelly MacAryn]

Kelly - arriving late

In a small emerald lagoon, nestled at the base of a waterfall which hissed thunderously down a vine-shrouded rock-face deep in the Green, Kelly bathed. His efforts in securing the safety of the 'verse against Nebula's influence had left him so caked with mud, sweat and gore that merely stepping into the water had caused a billowing cloud of oily muck to spread across the formerly pristine jungle pool. Still, after half-an-hour spent alternately scrubbing himself beneath the pounding waterfall and telekineticaly scouring his many small wounds in the shallows, the weary avatar of ragged filth gradually reverted to his former mode of long hair and lean muscle.

As he dressed himself by the water's edge, donning summoned duplicates of his ruined clothes, he browsed a constellation of holographic dataverse-windows, psychically manipulating his wrist-com with a newfound deftness, product of his recently expanded consciousness. By the time the traveler was fully clothed, a fresh blue tunic and crisp black denim refreshingly clean against his skin, hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, he'd caught up on the current state of affairs.

After only brief deliberation, he concluded he needed to leave immediately. While the news was mostly predictable - Nebula's influence in the Vasty Deep escalating largely unchecked into full-scale war, continued chaos in the lower Tiers of Coruscant, the annual bloodsport Bread and Circuses of Dante's abyss - there had been unexpected developments;  The Omniverse, as usual, had thrown him a curve-ball.  

Tearen Wover.

Nealapph.
 
Kelly had read about the Shadow during his initial, frantic data-binge, desperately educating himself in the data-core of Fort AMBR on his very first day in the Omniverse: Nealapph, the Prime who orchestrated the downfall of Volvagia, the nearly-invincible former ruler of the Ashen Steppes; Nealapph, the founder of the Institute and author of the Monotruth, a book which was, if Kelly was any judge, a remarkable achievement in psychological warfare, expanding on the grandest traditions of personality-cults throughout ten-dimensional reality. 

Nealapph, who had banished himself to the Underverse on the cusp of his greatest triumph - and now had come back with a new form, a new name, and a new message, confirming one of Kelly's most horrible suspicions.  

The door swings both ways. The Underverse isn't an inescapable trap - which probably means Diablo can leave any time he wants to. 

Kelly hefted his staff, a recently summoned copy of the one he'd lost in Nebula Space, and studied the treeline, finding his bearings. A breeze rustled the canopy, momentarily replacing the scent of running water with the distant smell of tropical flowers.

After his initial academic interest, all those months ago, the traveler had dismissed the Enigma as a competent strategist and likely demagogue who, while undoubtedly skilled and dangerous, was off the board pending further information. Kelly had barely spared him a second thought since. Now, however, watching the videos of Nealapph's participation in Dante's Abyss, witnessing his rebranding of himself as Tearen Wover, and more importantly, hearing his new message...

I need to speak with him. Leaving aside the fact that this new ethos he's promoting seems to hew quite closely to my own personal philosophy, and the likely value of his skills and methods, he's the only publicly known Prime who's been to the Underverse and returned. He has firsthand knowledge of Diablo's realm; That's an invaluable commodity, and an opportunity I can't pass up. The Vasty Deep will have to take care of itself for a while.
 
Besides - he's apparently right here in this verse. That sort of convenience deserves to be appreciated. Hopefully I'm not too late...

The reason for his latter concern was simple: A  pillar of light, frequently mentioned in various recent new-items regarding the Green currently failed to thunder silently into the sky, lighting the way for miles around to all who might come seeking knowledge. 

A man who styles himself an Enigma makes public, only slightly cryptic references to being easy to find in the vicinity of Ambrosia; A massive green pillar of light appears near Ambrosia. Hopefully it really is exactly that obvious.   

Fortunately, the Dataverse had a long memory - numerous maps existed which showed the beacon's approximate location, though many seemed to have failed to make the connection to its purpose.

Kelly focused his mind, closing himself to his higher perceptions, blocking out the scents of the forest, the sounds of falling water and distant birdsong, and recalled in eidetic detail the route he'd taken to reach this secluded spot. Along the corridors of recent memory he retraced his steps, counting paces and distance, from the Nexus gate to Nebula's stronghold to this pleasant little grotto, and mentally superimposed the route on a Dataverse map of the Tangled Green, orienting it relative to the former site of what he suspected was Tearen Wover's beacon.

"And that means," he muttered, pointing into the dense foliage with his staff, "I need to go that way."   

***

The journey was practically relaxing in its simplicity. Kelly traveled rapidly through the canopy, leaping confidently from branch to branch. He was aware of everything around him, every leaf and twig; The pulsing heat and electric auras of birds and mammalian bodies flickered alien scents and vivid hues across the sphere of his expanded awareness; the subtle murmurs of every animalistic mind whispered a back-beat of simple thought-concepts as he passed. 

After what seemed like a very short time spent simply moving and existing, plots and plans began turning over in the back of Kelly's head as some distant part of him considered what would need to be done in the coming weeks in order to further his broad strategic aims: The plan for Coruscant was largely unchanged, though after being gone for so long he imagined that his corporate alias would have to make something of a splash upon his return if it was to maintain its utility. His methodology for infiltrating the criminal fraternity would need to be re-evaluated - and a stop in Darkshire to reaffirm his ties to the garrison there probably wouldn't be amiss.... 

Leaves whispered past his face. A startled macaw flapped frantically as his boots struck its perch, and the psychic sprang forward, sailing across a thirty-foot gulf settle on a branch no more than eight inches wide. Then he was off again, ducking and jumping, twisting and swinging through the tops of the trees. 

Kelly felt his destination before he saw it: The weight of a Mind, glinting with the light-devouring blackness and functional elegance of an engine carved from obsidian, flickering impossible anti-color shadows in the aether as it squatted low on the horizon. A small gathering of other brains were scattered around its vicinity, some of them sturdy, some complex, some vacuous, some diligent, one mirthful and another seething with barely-contained rage. 

Excellent. He's still here. And it looks like I'm not the only interested party.

After that, it didn't take the traveler long to reach the edge of the clearing where the Enigma had elected to conduct his seminar. Crouching in the treetops, the psychic studied the area, taking note of the classically-inspired architecture - the abundant fountains, the elaborately carved granite gazebo and the airy bunkhouse.

And there was the man himself. Tearen Wover stood, green-eyed, dark and at-his-ease within the Gazebo. He was talking with... a little girl? It took Kelly a moment to place her, images from fort AMBR's files on Ambrosia flickering across his mind's eye. 

Is that Guu? Odd. I can't sense her. Though I suppose that's in keeping with her reputation.

...Hm.

They're both notoriously powerful Primes. One of them is invisible to my higher perceptions and the other one's mind is overtly potent. It's likely at least one of them already knows I'm here, and if so, there's little point in continuing to skulk. Besides, I did come here to talk.

I suppose I may as well introduce myself.

With that in mind, Kelly dropped out of the canopy, sinking into a low crouch as he absorbed the impact with his knees. A puff of chlorophyll and rich earth tickled his nose, rising from the broken ferns beneath his boots. Staff and thoughts in hand, the traveler rose quickly, smiled slightly, and strode casually towards the gazebo.

[Tearen Wover]

Tearen was beginning to get anxious now, not the least because Princess Guu had effectively just explained her life story to him. The other part, however, was that his students had yet to assemble themselves within the granite pavilion as he had requested. Perhaps they were having second thoughts, in which case, it was better for them to abstain from this process entirely. Getting the breadth and width of a deity's perspective on the universe forced into one's frontal lobes was never a painless experience.

Regardless of that, however, it was clear that Guu had not been lying when she said she was the offspring of his previous master. More than that, by what Tearen gleaned from her telepathic story, Guu was not just the Master's offspring; she had been borne from his very flesh. Much akin to how a cell divides, Guu was the mitotic recreation of Nyarlathotep. The ex-enigma cringed slightly; he had not allowed that name to pass through his mind since arriving in the Omniverse. Now, the Crawling Chaos' presence in his fate was all too real again. He glanced down at the protean child with a mixture of envy, pity, and dread, and Guu returned this gaze readily. Both of them were far from home, so to speak, but all the better for it. Tearen sucked in a deep breath, and allowed himself a bittersweet smile.

"Well, if nothing else, Princess...I'm glad you were able to find your humanity so quickly. Take my advice; never lose it." the elder Prime sighed, resisting the urge to pat her on the head. Guu read into his feelings and snatched one of his dry hands with her own, rubbery protuberance, and placed it on her crown slowly.

"Takes one to know one, eh?" she droned. She was about to continue, but both she and the eldritch human beside her both noticed the presence of a new Prime the second he dropped to the ground. They turned to face him, Tearen's palm still resting on Guu's head, as the mastermind approached. It was odd; Tearen was able to make a quick read of the newcomer's physical attributes, but his mind was like a raging fire, caged in an adamant armor. Another potential student then, with a fierce mind. Intelligence and cunning was one thing, however. If this new Prime wished to partake in these ceremonies at such a late juncture, he would have to prove the integrity of his ethos.

To that end, Tearen was predisposed to liking the long-haired pilgrim. The Shadow recognized the man's face from reports of the Assault on Darkshire, though he was not sure any specific mention had been made of the Prime's name. Perhaps Gamzee or Strazio would know him, then. As the traveler got closer to the stone enclosure, the Shadow held up a hand, bidding him to halt.

"A bit late to be joining us. I'm afraid we're short on time, so let me assess your worthiness with a simple question that you may answer with but one word. Who are you?"

[Kelly MacAryn]

The traveler tilted his head to one side in an almost bird-like gesture of interest. Given the professed nature of Tearen's undertaking here in the Green, it wasn't exactly surprising that the Enigma asked for proof of honest intent - Kelly certainly wouldn't share his own knowledge and techniques with anyone whose motives he didn't trust. Somehow though, he'd anticipated something less... gnomic.  

It's an interesting didactic method. He learns something about me, and in order to answer well I have to learn something about myself; At least, I'd assume that's the idea. I doubt he'll accept an obvious answer... 

I wonder if he's asked everyone else who came here the same thing? 

More importantly, what the hell am I going to say? 

Kelly closed his eyes and exhaled softly, his predatory countenance settling for a moment into a mask of calm introspection while his mind raced. One corner of his mouth twitched. Behind him, at the edge of the clearing, something skittered through the brush.

Somebody - I can't remember who, but I have a strong  feeling they were an asshole - said that a man is little more than the sum of his experience; I don't know that he was entirely wrong, but the idea needs some re-evaluation. Better than two-thirds of my past remains lost to me, but I retain a variety of very prominent and unusual personality traits. I have strong feelings about the way the world should be, and what my role in it is, and I act on them with calm deliberation in spite of the lack of a clear origin.

I suppose it could be said that I am the things I do, and how - not what I've been, and why. The two paradigms are connected, but if coming to the Omniverse with my mind so addled has proven anything, its that they certainly aren't the same. 

The question isn't necessarily 'who are you?': It could also be 'what are you doing?'.

I'd like to say I'm bringing about a tidal shift in the way this place's political superpowers govern themselves - but that's a long term goal. I'm not going to topple the Emperor next week, or even next year. 

I'd like to say I'm pursuing the basic elements of a long-term strategy, but I've been reacting lately more than I've been acting, and while ingratiating myself with the Darkshire garrison makes for an important fallback, its more of a lateral move - and this Nebula business is just a plain old crisis.

So what have I been doing? 

I've been travelling; I've been to more than half the 'verses now.

I've been growing; my power increases as my body adapts and my mind expands.   

I've been learning; Everywhere I go, everyone I meet, I discover something useful. 

I've been preparing; Even if my overall progress has stalled, that doesn't mean I can't refine the plan.

I've been fighting; first in Darkshire, then here, applying my skills so that these little fishbowl-worlds will keep turning long enough to fix them.

And right now...?

I travel with intent, returning to where I began. I'm still learning and plotting as I go, preparing for what comes next; I seek knowledge, pursuing my goals, and acting as circumstances demand; I've sought out a more experienced Prime in order to learn from him, and add his knowledge and methods to my own.

I've thought of myself as a traveler, but at some point this 'detour' turned almost monastic. There's a word for all of that. 

Kelly opened his eyes, straightened his neck. One of his vertebrae popped quietly. Only a moment had passed. 

He said, "journeyman."

[Malon]

"You should keep your hands off that. It's a poisonous one."

"What about this one?"

"That one... is okay."

Malon was happy that Gamzee, Karkat, Dane and the others hadn't joined her for the foraging, because that meant having some time to herself. Time to shed the "Maru" disguise, to put on a pair of boots and gloves and to go into the forest by herself, and find food the old-fashioned way even if she would have been done sooner had she summoned them instead. Seeing how they had Discus dough cakes left from the previous evening she had decided to collect a few chanterelles as seasoning, to make something similar to a mushroom omelette for those who had the appetite for something salted for breakfast. But like Tearen had probably done, the ones who were hungry for other things could summon them.

Spending time alone, surrounded by nothing but the quiet sounds of nature originating from the forest everywhere around her, also drew out the other Malons. While they had at best been transparent and sounded as if they were speaking to her from afar or through a fog bank that swallowed their voices when she was in the camp, here they looked like they were as real as Malon herself and their voices sounded completely clear in her ears. Just like right now, when Gardener pointed out which of the mushrooms were edible and which ones she should avoid.

"The Kokiri sure taught you a lot about nature", Malon said as she put the tiny umbrella-shaped fungus into her basket. "I wish they came out of their forest more often."

"Hyrule isn't a very inclusive country, you know."

"That's not true! We had good trade relationships with the Gorons", she pointed out.

"The Gorons are an exception. Their immense physical strength and durability makes them fairly resistant to physical harassment, and their almost endearing naivety keeps them from being very affected by racial slurs, and makes them more likable. People have warmed up to them. But the Kokiri? They look like Hylian children. Most people had trouble understanding that they were speaking to adults, and it crept them out to be spoken to by what they perceive as a kid, in the same way that an adult would." She interrupted her explanation to point at a mushroom. "This one looks good, by the way. But as I was saying... humans fear what they cannot understand. And if they fear something they attempt to remove it from their life, or contain it. The Kokiri, just like the Zoras I might add, would have ended up in zoos at best, and dead at worst."

Malon swallowed. "You're painting a really grim picture."

Gardener was smiling again, back to her cheerful self. "I'm just detailing why the Kokiri chose to stay among themselves. Although, they're also children of nature - they belong to the forest just like the Skull Kids. They wouldn't have liked the cities and towns anyway."

Malon stood up and dusted her trousers off and shot Assassin a look. She, along with Chef, was sitting on a semi-rotten log and watching the work. "You have a way of destroying my remaining fond memories of home, you know", she said, but grinned as she said so.

"Hyrule's got its light and dark sides", Assassin responded simply. "Just like every country out there."

"Like the Omniverse", Chef remarked with a grim look. "You should change back before you return to the encampment."

"I should indeed." She went over to a puddle of water and looked at her reflection, then passed her hand over her face, briefly covering her eyes. When she looked again, Chef's face looked back at her. "There we go."


Five minutes later Malon stepped into the encampment. Thanks to Tearen's beacon it was very easy to find, even if the forest didn't have wild paths for her to find her way back easily. She was headed towards the kitchen tent to prepare the mushrooms when she noticed that in her absence, newcomers had joined the group around Tearen. Besides the latter stood a little girl, and both faced the other stranger, a young man who had his back to her and was just saying something about a journeyman.

"Oh... I'm sorry", she said, loud enough that the stranger facing away from her would hear her approach. "I hope I'm not intruding on anything?"

[Tearen Wover]

Tearen tilted his head back slightly as a wry smirk blossomed across his face. He was silent for a short while, long enough for a light breeze to blow a loose strand of still-damp hair in front of Kelly's face. The traveler moved his hand to replace it, but found that it had already been brushed back behind his ear by Tearen's mental digits.

"Hmmm...I suppose that answer will do. But let your first lesson be this; never be too proud nor yet too humble to simply give someone your name." Tearen said softly, crossing his arms. Kelly wore a dry expression but nodded in acceptance.

"My name, then, is Kelly MacAryn. I-" Kelly started before Tearen held up a palm for silence.

"Secondly, never think so hard that you drop your mental guard in the presence of two well-known telepaths." the Shadow said, gesturing towards the diminutive Princess at his side. Guu raise a round hand to her mouth and uttered a forced "Ho. Ho. Hooh." without deviating from her perpetually bored visage. MacAryn gave the ex-enigma a hard stare for a minute before Tearen cracked a grin and belted out a short bout of laughter.

"Ah shit, I'm totally bullshitting you. I'm Tearen and this is Guu. Come on MacAryn, we'll get you introduced to the others." the Elder Prime said, putting a hand to Kelly's back and ushering him over to the stone bunk house. Kelly, at this point, had no idea whether Tearen or Guu had been able to successfully scan the entirety of his internal deliberation. Seeing that he was apparently being taken in, however, the journeyman decided not to press the issue. 

Malon, or rather Maru, was busy preparing a sumptuous breakfast. The smell of the feast gradually drew the other disciples back to the camp, for by this time, no one could resist the allure of the Hylian's cooking. They dined in friendly, relative silence as Tearen and Kelly discussed the fundamentals of his animistic worldview. Much of the information that was exchanged were concepts that the other psychic was already familiar and proficient with, further convincing the Eldritch Prime that MacAryn would make an excellent Enigma. Tearen also took particular note of the fact that Kelly was the only one at the table to eat any of the strawberries that had been set out.

Morning passed into early afternoon, and it was when the rainforest was at its most insufferable that Tearen bade all of his guests out to the pavilion one last time. He let a hand brush against the cool, carved granite pillars. He had originally planned this location to last much longer; it was a pity that it would all soon be naught but another vine-choked ruin within the Tangled Green. Forest birds keened and bayed as the sun reached its crest in the sky. The Elder Prime had asked everyone to sit in a circle around him as he stood, with their legs crossed. They did so and shared in a prolonged session of meditation.

Some were better at it than others, but the real reason Tearen had asked them to sit in silence was so that he could calm his own nerves. Guilt was rising within him, carrying with it a bolus of panic that rested at the crest of his throat. His whole body was tense as his own thoughts raced, thinking about whether or not this was the right thing to do...whether they would be damaged irreparably by this process...and whether he was just trying to subconsciously guarantee his own immortality in the face of his desired doom. A gentle knock came in the back of his mind, and Tearen peeked with a single eye to catch Guu staring at him from her place of sitting. She, of all the Primes here, knew what his offered knowledge entailed. Her sullen gaze carried unspoken words; a simple truth conveyed with utmost severity.

Never falter in the face of infinity.

It happened suddenly. A sharp rumbling began to permeate the gazebo, and when the startled disciples opened their eyes, Tearen was gone. In his place hovered an ever-widening maw of darkness, drawing loose stone and foliage into its ebony blackness.

"WHAT THE SHIT." was Karkat's appropriate response as the collected Primes were drawn towards the gulping void. A white flash ricocheted off the crumbling pavilion roof as Strazio tried to nail a fist into the floor, but it was for naught. Malon, stricken dumb by panic, watched in awe as Guu simply allowed herself to get sucked into the raging black hole, still in a seated position. A moment passed, and the Hylian remembered her own immortality. With a small whimper, she let go of the nearest column and allowed herself to be drawn into Tearen as well. One by one the Primes saw the others relenting to the inevitable, until only the mutant troll remained. He watched in combined dismay and anger as Gamzee tumbled, cackling, into the tenebrous orb before giving in as well.

"THIS IS STUPID!" he cried before running out of strength and joining his companions...
























































































































At first there was blackness. Perhaps to be expected.

They, whoever they might be, could no longer distinguish themselves from the others...for there never had been any. There had only ever been God, which it was, and always would be. God was there, in themselves, and now God remembered.

It remembered the cruelty of a new Lord under a rusted sky.

It remembered listless, endless nights trying to keep the rage at bay.

God also remembered keeping a crimson secret.

It remembered running from the parents who would betray it.

They could recall despair and pain, and using that to fuel themselves.

God remembered books. Countless, glorious, wonderful books...and a betrayal of its own.

There was also much that God could not remember.

It also remembered its daughter...its wife...its home...and the Faustian pact that had lead it here, once again.

There was much that God wished it did not remember, for to recall pain was to relive it. But without pain there was no learning. Without pain, it could not know joy, and there was much joy to remember.

God remembered flying. It loved flying; in spite of everything else that it had ever done, flying never ceased to bring joy.

Baby horses.

New maths.

Pie.

Shouting.

Friends in arms.

A new family.

Seeing a plan come together.

All of these things were God as well, for God was everything, and its name was Universe. Every thought, every quantum hiccup, every step taken was known by God, for these things were God's as well.

In this, it knew that it could change any of it, at any time, for any reason it wanted to. This power did not control God, but that did not mean God controlled themselves. What might God do, with omnipotence at its fingertips, if it was...

Angry Loving Happy Sad Irritated Scared Dour Bitter Content...Bored? God did not control itself, but that did not mean God did not own itself. Could it not do with itself as it pleased?

No. Because to harm people or animals or plants was to harm God, and though these things might indeed cause hurts of their own nature, it was their choice to do so. But then was it not God's choice as well? For they were of the Universe, and that was the name of God.

Perhaps. But to control the Universe...control God...would mean things...stopped. A human breathes on their own, and they can choose to stop, but not for long, or they end. So must the Universe breathe, and the Breath of the Universe is the stepping, and the hiccuping and all the rest that God chooses not to control.

But in that regard...




...in that regard...



...there can be many voices in one mind. God knew this from experience. What if one of God's voices wanted to hurt the Universe? Control it?

Strangle the Breath?






Silence the voice.
The Universe must Breathe.

Bugs must crawl and babies must cry.
Stars must burn and planets die.

There is no choice.
God doesn't feel like rhyming anymore.


Yeah, yeah. The Universe understands all of this now. The Universe has been over it like a million times. How does the Universe make rocks float?





































Oh yeah.
That.






A shower of sparks which is a million stars blooms from the central point. That central point is nowhere, because there has never been that which has been something to come from. Genesis. Hands crawl across the dusted escarpment of a thousand dead nations, seeking to attain that which they dare not speak aloud. It is too bold. No one can achieve it, yet they dream it and joke of it all the same. A splash of rainbow across the canvas of infinity reveals the numbers which define it, in that there are none. Limited minds cannot grasp the depth and breadth of infinity, for there is none. Infinity can be smaller than a speck or larger than God. Infinity is not a thing, it is light and color and noise and noise and noise and noise. Endless all of these things which can be experienced left, right and up and down and end over end for all time.

Planets shift and moons crumble, turn into rings, and become moons again. Time is a feeble way to grasp at something that never was. Ignore it. Spurn it. Hate it. God is infinite and therefore cannot be measured nor summarized. Refuse this. Do not define, and do not assume. See what you are seeing and see that you are God. God is...on fire, underwater, spinning through pulsating matrices of hatred and passion that burn out into golden cinders of loving-care. Sing the song that spins the world you wish to see, and let it spin away. Crush it, blend it, and then reform it, but only when it is done spinning. Done

Breathing

Because that cannot exist forever which is made to have beginning and end. Red is infinite. Sound itself is infinite. Vibrations and energy are infinite. Trust in these things, and see yourself in them, for all else will crumble and fade. Entropy, my love, is also infinite. Minds come and minds go, twirling through the glinting aether of ephemeral impermanence, daring to dream that which they already grasp in their hands. There is no skill needed, only...

Permission

You have permission. You have always had it. There is no method. There is no trick. You do as you Will, for that is your right as God.

I cannot possibly make this any simpler.

Now go back into yourself, Universe. There is a Voice to silence.































There was an immense bang. The collected disciples of Tearen found themselves hurled clear of the pavilion and onto the soft jungle loam beyond. Whatever spacial rift the Elder Prime had torn open had apparently exploded, if the ruined, smoking rubble was anything to go by. Guu was the first back on her feet. This sort of thing had been a way of life for uncounted eons, in her previous life. Certainly, it had been a long time since she'd been a part of something like that, but it was a bit like riding a bicycle.

The Princess glanced around at the other Primes who were still reeling from the experience. One or two of them had vomited already, and it would probably be a while before they were able to come to their senses. To his credit, Tearen had been able to reassemble their individual minds mostly intact, but she could feel bits and pieces of the other disciples swimming around in the cracks of her conscience. She supposed she could purge them at her leisure, and in time, the others would learn how to do that as well. For now, the Princess contented herself with sitting on a nice, flat rock and watched the newly christened Enigmas flail around with their newfound prowess.

As for Tearen Wover?

He was gone.

Genesis of Apotheosis Complete! All participants now have plausible reasons to give themselves wacky, reality bending powers and psychic badassery!

The extent to which your Primes' minds have been contaminated by the other Enigmas is up to the individual writers, and can manifest as personality traits, memories, habits, or whatever you want.

Tearen has also 'installed' much of his knowledge and pertinent memories into the Enigma's minds, which they can access with a bit of meditation, including all of his Omniverse experiences thus far. Think of it like a partitioned hard-drive.

You can keep posting in this thread as long as you feel you need. Thanks so much for attending my going-away party! Now go do some crazy shiet!

Tearen used a Warp Whistle to travel to The Void

[Guu]

As she watched the newly minted batch of enigmas take the first steps they’d ever take outside their pre-enlightened forms, Guu just watched, partially amused at the newbies fumbling about. She wasn’t judging, there was a first time for everything.

She wanted to psychically call out to Gamzee, requesting he’d meet her after he got everything together, but she feared he wouldn’t receive it while his brain was mush. Couldn’t even get reception from anyone, at least nothing clear. Being through the cosmic meat grinder does have a way of jumbling up those pink folds up good.

Turning her attention away from the scrambled messes ahead of her, she decide to explore what she had gained. She had already terminated the other enigmas from her mind, probably to keep some level of privacy for them, but kept Tearen himself. There was so much knowledge that had been implanted in her brain just now. It was a willfully given gift she’d have to unwrap later when she didn’t have Wover’s students to tend to. Someone had to pick up the pieces after they eventually rediscovered how to use their legs again and rediscovered that food was supposed to be travelling the other direction through their bodies.

She floated rocks in the palm of her hand, the trio rotated around each other, something akin to the outer gods. After recent events, it’d only make sense they’d be on her mind. Of course, she neglected to realize she had telekinesis now. Considering most of her powers come to her in her sleep, it’s not surprising. To her, the ability was just an extension of her flight power, which she also neglected to notice the first time she acquired that.

She will probably not be shocked to realize she could now summon arms out of the ground to grab stuff. She’ll probably use it in some battle without acknowledging how she knew she could do that before, and no one will even question it because who in their right mind actually has read this far into the text?

Shit, this Tearen Wover crap is getting her all meta now.

Guu narrowly avoided the wrath of Omni himself by refocusing on the group. They were probably more entertaining anyways.

[Dane Regan]

Too much.

Minds merged, shifted, sorted, shared. Knowledge. Information. Power. Everything.

And then it was gone. 

Split, separated, reconstructed.

Dane could hardly have been called himself in that joint state, yet upon his exit, and the time shortly after, he clawed. Leaving was a necessity, but that didn't mean he couldn't bring something else out with him. Others may solely focus on reclaiming themselves, but Dane was greedy. So what if he forgot how to cook spaghetti? He was confident enough to fill in the gaps, and if someone was lost for good then it couldn't have been that important. He forgot most things at the end of the day, anyway. Why should this be any different? 

Striving to make the most of the circumstances, Dane pulled together all he could, replicating it, filling his brain to the brim. A clump here, a fragment there, little glints of information that caught his mind's eye in addition to those accidentally slotted within his prior knowledge during the reformation of his mind.

He hated it.

It was cheating.

He didn't discover this himself.

It wasn't his knowledge.

Nor did he learn it, go through the fun road to understanding.

No, he just took it.

For the first moment in a long time, Dane was angry. Fueled by entirely arbitrary and irrational reasons, he despised his choice, and he hated Tearen for pushing his mind into that. Dane's brain was his sanctuary, an impenetrable place. Yet this was the second, perhaps third, occasion someone had manipulated it without his blessing, although one of those was potentially of his own accord, the other two were breaches by Tearen.

He had to get better. 

And in a strange way, through a headache, anger, and swirling thoughts in his mind, he felt good. A motive. It had been a while since he'd had one of those. Sure, developing actual magical ability would be nice, but he'd long since come to terms with his mana deficiency. Although reaching the conclusion of the research he'd started over a week ago would be nice, it probably wouldn't be groundbreaking. 

But first.

Think.

Trains of thought swarmed Dane's mind. It was like trying to juggle a liquid with a tennis racket.

Think. What can you use?

What do you need?

What do you want?

More magic, no. He didn't care for that. It would either be unusable to part of his existing knowledge.

Wrong.

Just because he couldn't use it, didn't mean he couldn't rework its principles to create something else. Something new.

Prioritise.

Destruction. Raw power. He grabbed the knowledge. He was lacking in that department.

Think.

Subterfuge. An area he was familiar with. Copying, pretending. He filed it away for later.

What would be useful? What did you come here to know? Think.

I have no need to.

Why?

He wants us to know. Sparing effort to fight for it is pointless.

Dane left Tearen's knowledge alone, ignoring it as he sifted through the ever decreasing information at the forefront of his mind, going back to work, filing away some of what he worked to bring back while the rest melted away into oblivion.

He pushed himself to his feet, staggering as the black spots cleared from his vision, blood rushing through his body. Glaring at Tearen's prior location, he shrugged before looking about the room. The other primes were mostly doing the same. He wasn't the first to compose himself, nor was he the last.

Dane was at his limit. With a biological brain came limitations to memory space, read speed, and write speed. As fast as he was at thinking, perhaps even with slight passive magical assistance, there was only so much he could take on. In the long run, he mused, it wouldn't matter. He was immortal here, to his knowledge. All the time in the world to discover stuff himself. Yet, at least, this could serve as inspiration.

He had an explanation, of sorts, for what Tearen did - and he was sure the god-mind would tell him it was false. That he was wrong. Not that Tearen could prove his claim, at least sufficiently for Dane to believe it.

There was actually a name for it in the mythology of Dane's world, psionics. Either its own discipline or a long lost branch of magic - in this case, it was the former. Essentially, manipulation with, on, and using the mind. 

And what did Tearen do? 

Put everyone's minds together.

It wasn't omniscience.

It wasn't omnipotence.

It wasn't god.

Dane refused. It was a stupid idea, he decided. 

Yet, the connection did seem like all those things.

But that was only logical.

Why?

Experiencing the true capabilities of multiple minds, bodies, and powers working together in fullest. No resources spared. Like a singularity when compared to less dense matter. When contrasted with everyday feelings and tasks, it was only natural that it would seem like 'god'.

Dane had the feeling his teacher would be disappointed to hear him say that. Perhaps say his mind was too static, in denial. He didn't care, if someone wanted his opinions or conclusions to change, they needed to bring proof, logical reasoning, deductions or evidence.

What was more likely? Tearen possessed an ability that worked proportionally to willpower, and had taken to calling it 'god'? Or that it actually was a god in every sense of the word, at least when fully manifested. 

Obviously, the former, at least to Dane.

Anyway, he was fairly sure he was proficient with using at least some of it, and even before Tearen mashed everyone together, he'd accidentally used some of it. It irked him that, even with this experience, he still viewed the power more akin to cause and effect. If he did X, Y would happen. All concepts broke down to that eventually. The laws of the universe. Mathematics had similar things, although those were always correct regardless of what universe they were in.

And he was going on tangents again.

The real question was what he planned to do next. Head back to Camelot, stick around with the others, or do something else.

Give it five minutes.

A short wait. He could think more on the way, but maybe if he stayed he'd get to test out some things. Practice makes perfect, after all.

He glanced around the area, stepping back to the side. Perhaps he'd wait for Malon, or Maru as she went by currently. Allies were useful, and, as far as the present company went, besides the new guy, he didn't much care for them. Not that he knew anything about the new dude - just that he didn't seem angry and he wasn't a little girl, like the other new member.

That was probably why he didn't have many friends.

He shrugged, forcing himself to take on natural mannerisms.

Casual. 

Insignificant.

By his standards, he was probably the most 'normal' of the group. It was hard to blend into a crowd when there were so few people. But he definitely wasn't at the front.

Take anything you want from Dane's current. I don't mind. Although, with regards to memories and stuff, most are probably going to have a highly objective outlook. And I'd rather you don't learn loads, and more of a general outline. PM me if you're unsure, I guess.

[Strazio Rockwell]

Memories bombarded the Defender of Darkshire at a blinding pace. Within moments he had witnessed several lifetimes and filled his brain with the thoughts of his peers. Not that his fledgling mind could grasp the true breadth of information presented to it. Sure you could pour a lake’s worth of water into cup, but any excess would spill over and be lost. His body had come out the other side unscathed, but a metaphorical grenade had gone off inside his skull.

“Damnit,” Strazio muttered, he couldn’t help but feel he was forgetting something terribly important.

He was born on a planet called Alternia? No, that wasn’t right. Foreign words and concepts sparked off the inside of his head, words such as lusus and juggalo. It took a few moments for him to realize that his brain was channelling Gamzee’s wavelength.

Swatting away those memories his mind latched onto a kingdom known as Hyrule. That was what he was forgetting, that motherfucker Ganondorf. Strazio’s first foray into Dante’s Abyss seemed so distant to him, but he could still remember that sorcerous prick with a burning intensity. Ganon had destroyed Hyrule and subsequently destroyed Strazio’s home. He rubbed his temples. No, wait, that wasn’t right. He had met Ganon in the Omniverse. These weren’t his memories, at least not entirely. He wasn’t sure, but maybe these were Maru’s? God, that name didn’t sit right in his gut.

Again he tried to focus and sort through the wreckage of his psyche. This time he was only able to kick up vague memories. Something about a demon king and his twin brother studying magic. Or maybe it wasn’t his brother and just a family friend? These thoughts were covered in a thick layer of fog and served to only befuddle Strazio’s attempts at clarity.

What the fuck was a penguin?

Strazio rolled over onto his stomach. He pushed himself up onto all fours. Nausea gripped him and he retched violently. He managed to keep his breakfast down, but a bit of stomach acid stung his throat. Again he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to put the pieces back together. His body quivered and he whispered a string of vicious curses.

Damien Alabaster.

The name hung in his mind, burning itself like a brand on his grey matter. Who was Damien Alabaster? Another false memory? Strazio remembered a coastal village. He remembered a family. He remembered a stranger. Death, fire,.and blood. The ionized scent of air that followed destructive magick. Darkness, he remembered darkness. He remembered hiding underneath rubble while his family’s blood trickled in through the cracks overhead. How long was he trapped in the wreckage? Too long. Long enough to develop a profound and rancorous hatred for Damien. That desire for vengeance sustained him. He latched onto anger and rage and hatred because that was all he could latch onto. It was here, down in the darkness and beneath the corpses of his family that the Avatar of Rage was born.

He had only met the man twice, but he knew who Damien Alabaster was, and there were no words strong enough to describe his hatred of the man.

Strazio exhaled. He had been holding onto the same breath for too long and it felt like his eardrums were going to rupture. He stood and looked around the room. His eyes narrowed on Maru and his memories of Ganondorf came to the forefront. He shook his head and looked away, trying to wipe away the image. The white-haired mage pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. Another wave of nausea hit him. He did his best to ignore the pounding inside his skull and stumbled towards the door. Stepping outside he gulped down breaths of fresh air.

It took a few more moments, but he finally managed to stabilise his runaway mind. He glanced back inside, hoping to find Tearen, but the enigma was nowhere to be found. Their teacher had abandoned them. Strazio frowned and turned back outside. He walked a few paces out and scooped up a rock.

“Alright,” he muttered, “this better not be bullshit, Tearen, I’m going to be pissed if you’ve just been fucking with us.”

He turned the stone over in his hand and slowed his breathing. Without much fanfare he tossed the stone upwards and reached out with his mind. His eyes locked onto the tumbling projectile and he exerted his will over it. Where his mind had been cluttered with a constant buzzing it was now anchored by the fragments of his peers. His eyes glinted and flashed a striking emerald color.

The stone stopped. It stopped its natural descent as if Omni himself had pinned it in place. Strazio nearly gasped, but he swallowed his astonishment. He could feel every imperfection littered across the stone’s surface. It's rough and mud-covered countenance was as clear to him as if it was sitting in the palm of his hand. He willed it to move and it began a slow orbit around his head. After a handful of orbits he willed the stone to stop a few inches from his face. His headache had returned. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself. His eyes focused on a tree several yards away. In his mind’s eye he imagined a cannon and tried to fire the rock against his target. As soon as he tried to introduced rapid forward momentum his grip on the stone faltered and it tumbled to earth.

“Damn,” he said, more disappointed than frustrated.

The green in his eyes faded and his head thrummed with a dull pain. Strazio smiled and turned back to the building that had housed his recent apotheosis. He stepped through the threshold and glanced around. Most of the Enigmas had more or less recovered from their own awakenings. The Defender of Darkshire said nothing, but turned his attention towards Maru. His eyes flashed green and he stretched his new mental bounds out towards her. At first he said nothing, not because he had nothing to say, but rather because he was not sure how to speak. After a few befuddling seconds of mental fumbling he finally spoke inwards.

Uh… hello?

The girl did not respond, but seemed to perk up slightly.

It’s Strazio, not sure if you can hear me, this whole thing is kinda fucky, but I figured this would be the best way to talk to you in private. I picked up a few of your memories… I think.

She glanced over at him and they locked eyes.

Ganondorf is here in the Omniverse.

Her eyes went wide. He stopped speaking and instead dredged up the memories of his time spent in The Town with no Name. He hoped at least some of this was getting to her. He shared the round table talk where Thaal had assembled Ganon, Enel, and Strazio himself to form the now-defunct LAW. He shared his time in Dante’s Abyss, particularly their first bout when the Gerudo and a green-clad boy ambushed him. By now Strazio’s head had begun to scream and ache. He ended the stream of images and said his final piece.

Don’t worry, I hate the bastard too. If you want to speak more about this in private we can.

Despite the piercing headache and the dull taste of copper on his gums Strazio felt strangely excited about his newfound abilities. They did not come easy, but he felt like a kid given a new toy and for that he was grateful. He felt something warm trickle down the front of his face and he raised his hand to greet it. His nose had begun to bleed.

“Well, fuck,” he muttered.

[Guu]

Unexpectedly, Guu was in Strazio’s face. She was floating in the air, a medical bag also floating by her side. A nurse’s cap adorns her pink head.

“What’cha got there, sweet cheeks?” Guu’s mouth didn’t move. She inspects his nose. “Ah, the classic bloody nose. I have just the cure for that!”

A handkerchief floated out of the bag and pressed up against the man’s nose.

“Pinch down and keep your head forward. Keep it there for ten minutes! If it’s still running after that-” Guu’s telepathic voice was interrupted by a chime in her stomach. “One moment please!”

She reached into her mouth (the only time it has actually moved this entire bit on that matter,) and pulled out her phone. With a newly formed finger she tapped her way through the device, and her face went from a scowl, to something more resembling a scowl.

She tossed her nurse cap aside and flew up, up above the canopy until the entire valley was in view. She scanned her surroundings: the waterfall nearby, the mountains in the distance, the forests. Finally she saw it, the lake. With it in sight, she looked at the e-mail again.



To: Guu
From: Sylvia
Subject: The New Leaf Project

I apologize if I interrupt your meeting with Tearen Wover, but as fate would have it, you’re pretty close to something big that maybe you can be involved in.

Since you’ve been gone, we’ve done research on the lake that had formed not far from Ambrosia. As suspected, the lake has been formed from the underground springs that flow under the city. The lake is still gaining water. We need to establish a pump station out there or we may risk flooding in the long term.

Well, Mr. Tom Nook has come forward with a plan to establish a town there, somewhere in which the pump station workers can live. Also, he thinks it’s a good tourist spot: “a nice quiet place to spend a holiday,” as he claims. The traffic of people living there will start using up the water.

He’s been building for us for years so I do not doubt his credentials. Also, he’ll be outsourcing an experienced city engineer, and from what he’s shown me, she looks more than promising!

Anyways, the spot in question is near where Tearen’s thing is happening, maybe if I send Tom out there, you can go greet them and approve of their plans yourself!
However, if you can’t make it for whatever reason, I’ll understand!

Signed,
Sylvia Black



Suddenly, Tearen’s thoughts appeared in her head. She remembered, before he initiated the singularity, he regretted his venue would become another ruin. While he probably wasn’t that depressed about it, in Guu’s mind that almost felt like a plea for help. And exaggeration in order to justify what was probably a stupid idea.

She decided to ignore the fact what she just did in her head was so incredibly human it hurts, she flew back down into the trees, darted straight for Gamzee.

She pulled out a notepad and pen from her stomach, hastily wrote a note.



If you come out of it soon, I’m in the building, I’d like to greet you. -Princess Guu



She pulled off the note from its spirals and stuck it in the front of his shirt.

As soon as she had done that, she darted for the building. In what seemed like a flash, she was suddenly in the room, crossed legged in the center.

She focused her OM, the shimmering ball appeared in front of her. She focused on what she wanted to summon; a man, someone responsible, someone who knew the relevance of this place. She new this person was a work of fiction. She knew she was essentially creating life right now, but she couldn’t trust anyone else to handle this task.

In him, she imbued his teachings, his post-underverse world views, the way he carried himself. She granted him knowledge, and love. She granted him passion. She gave him truths.

She couldn’t tell how long it took, time slipped away as she summoned. Before long, the ball of light took form.

Oh shit, she forgot to make him human.

A being, standing on his tentacles as if he were legs, stood before Guu. He put his tentacles together and saluted upon noticing who he was standing in front of.

“Princess Guu!” He yelled out enthusiastically. “I, Tepp the Octopus, swear to look after this place with my life!”

“Um...” Guu was stunned. But in the end of the day, she didn’t feel like taking away life after she had imbued it. “Good!”

[Malon]

Malon felt as if she'd been thrown into a raging tornado and spun around until she could no longer tell up and down apart, let alone left and right.


Was there even a left and right in this place?


What was this place even?


And who was she?


No, the answer to that one was easy. I am StrazGuDaKelKarMalGamTea. Of course.


One voice asked, and eight voices responded. They were all speaking the truth, and yet they lied. They merged with each other and split apart, each taking chunks of the others with it, then rejoined the amalgamate. It was as if a crazed sculptor was mixing different clay types then splitting them apart again.



But soon one voice elevated itself above the others, a voice stronger than all of them, and as if prompted by this action the other voices split apart again. Although, they were no longer what they had been. They were more. Each of them had given a little of itself to the others, and had received a little in return. They were mixed, yet not tainted. They were joined, yet not one. And it was good.


It was only when a single of these voices drifted back through the void back to her that she understood.




I am Malon. Of course.


As that realization hit her, the darkness began to clear up. The complete absence of everything gave way to a flood of sensations. The fresh smell of pine trees and of wet leaves. The brownish color of trampled grass before her. The taste of dirt on her tongue. The feeling of semi-hardened mud under her hands. And the sounds of other people around her.

As her sense of gravity kicked back in she realized that she was laying on the ground. Her stomach felt like it was spinning in her belly, she felt like she would be sick any moment. She forced herself not to, made herself sit up and take deep breaths through her nose and mouth. The singularity was gone, their minds were separate again, the ground was stable, they were no longer moving. Upside was up again. Repeating these thoughts in her head time and time again cleared her head until she was able to think straight once more.

Then Gamzee's and Karkat's friend, Strazio, his voice flared up inside her head. She first thought it to be an illusion, an aftereffect, but she noticed the way he was intently looking at her. Was this telepathy? Was he speaking from mind to mind?

"Ganondorf is here in the Omniverse", he said. The simple mention of his name made her tense up. He was here?! Evil incarnate, and... could it be that he was linked to the one Tearen had warned them about? Was he-

Then she was not Malon anymore. In flashes, Strazio's memories rushed through her mind as he sent them: memories of a desert with a merciless sun blazing down onto him, memories of a bar, of a man called Isaac, of a dragon... of many Primes, and most importantly of him - of Ganondorf. He looked every bit like she remembered him from that one meeting on Lonlon Ranch.

Strazio's last words did not come through to her anymore. Perhaps it was him pouring a few of his memories into her that triggered it, or perhaps it was with a delay that they popped up. In either case, Malon began hopping from body to body, from memory to memory, and in flashes she saw worlds and places that she had never been to, experienced events that she had never seen, met people that she did not know, and was people that she wasn't.

Memories of the others, of times long before they had come to the Omniverse.

A young man leading a content, simple life with his family. He was on a fishing trip with his dad, pulling a large net out of the water. Eh, that catch could be better... then he was in a bar, helping out his ma, and there was a peculiar guest. He introduced himself as Damien Alabaster. Red lightning destroyed everything he knew and held dear. He would never forget that name. He would hunt him down to the edge of the earth, and far beyond.

Like they were drained through the whirlpool at the bottom of a bathtub the memories turned into a swirl and the scene changed.

Everything turned foggy, as if the one the memories belonged to was withholding them, refusing to let them be shared. But a few of them boomed through. Flashes of books, in piles and in shelves, on the ground and on desks. A voice boomed through his mind: "Effort can overcome talent."

Yet again there was a swirl and a new scene unfolded before her eyes.

A tropical jungle. It felt familiar, a place whose every nook and cranny she knew inside and out. Of course. She had spent more years than she cared to count in them. A blue-haired boy stood before her, and his face reflected annoyance and anger, but also a sort of fear. She enjoyed that. He was fun to toy with. It reminded her of the time when... The next part of this memory made Malon feel like her head would burst. It was part of a memory not meant for mortals. Whoever it belonged to was a creature far beyond human comprehension. Her mind catatonically allowed that memory to pass without grasping at it and let it be forever lost again.

Swirl.

A world of colors, of sounds, of floating pink elephants and of horned devils riding brooms like witches while cackling. There were people around him, and it was great. "Everything is freaking miracles, bro."

Swirl.

"Rise and shine, Mister MacAryn." Words spoken by someone he could not see. Flashes of moments in worlds where gravity worked upwards and where air was liquid. Worlds where oceans could think and where the Robot-Pirates fought to defend the Sacred Box from the Alien invaders. A planet where an intelligent storm wrote poems into the sand. Black and white birds. They were playing some role in this, but what was it?



"Maru? Is everything okay?" Strazio asked when the lack of a response from her startled him. He touched her by her shoulder and she slumped backwards like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Her eyes were open, but her irises had grown enormous, filling out almost all the white surface of the eyeball that was visible and appearing as unicolor dark blue. As her mind dragged her through the memories of the others her body had entered an open-eyed trance. She was still alive, and were one of them to check they would see her chest rising and falling with steady breaths, or hear her beating heart. But she was somewhere far, far away.

Malon's experiencing the memories of the others, and unlocking her new powers. Why does she not take it as well as everyone else? Maybe she's just not strong enough yet ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Her trance will last for 15-20 minutes, in case that anyone wants to talk to her after that. Not much can be done to wake her up in the meantime.

[Dane Regan]

Dane blinked. Glaring sunlight shone into his eyes.

He glared back, squinting, while raising his palm to block the light. It seemed to get brighter as the clouds parted further. "Oi, you picking a fight with me, ya bastard."

Shrugging, he looked around, deciding that trying to start a fight with the sun wasn't a clever idea; he was mostly confused as to how he was suddenly outside...

...and also on the roof.

His memory hadn't lagged, surely. And even if it had, he wouldn't climb onto the roof without a good reason, and as far as he could tell, there wasn't one. One second he was leaning back against a pillar, the next he was a few metres higher, standing above his old position.

Yet he remembered nothing and couldn't think of any explanation for what happened. Before he'd mostly been daydreaming, brainstorming, waiting around for something interesting to happen before he left. He'd been bored by the few conversations, and was just about to head back outside when he'd mysteriously ended up on the roof. It made no sense.

A new power, maybe? Something I used subconsciously? Something I gained recently from all that? 

Dane shrugged, he wouldn't know unless he could replicate it. And he didn't know how. Unlike when he accidentally read some of Malon's memories, he had no recollection of willing himself to be on the roof, or reaching out mentally to change his position.

But, it was worth a try. There wasn't any reason for him not to try teleporting again, if that was indeed what happened.

Stepping forwards, Dane moved his feet to the edge of the roof, toes hanging just over the ledge. He looked down, picturing himself on the grassy floor.

And then the surface under him was gone.

Missing.

"Fuck."

He fell, majestically landing flat on his face in a pile of dirt, coincidentally right where he'd planned to teleport. 

This is going to take some practice.

Good thing we're a pro at trial and error.

Thinking to himself, Dane willed his body forwards. Just a few metres ahead.

Aaaand... now.

He clicked his fingers.

...

Nothing.

Huh? Why didn't it-

The sensation of falling halted Dane's thoughts. He glanced down, almost comically admiring the ground as it accelerated towards him. Not wanting to get more dirt on his face, he bent his legs slightly, landing in a backwards roll before flipping to his feet.

That was strange. He hadn't been focusing on teleportation when it actually activated. Yet magic should activate instantly once the mana was collected.

But this wasn't magic. This was something else. His connection with the world allowed him to do this - it was something he'd gleaned from Tearen. An alien concept. 

Perhaps, Dane thought, it's not connected to my subconscious correctly.

That would make sense. His brain wasn't wired correctly to use the eldritch powers. He'd had to manually configure his mind before to utilise the link with the strawberry, and after that, connecting with Malon was easy. 

The key problem here, was how to mess up his own mind enough for it to work. He didn't know where the teleportation was currently linked, and even when using it, he had no internal perception of what was happening. 

Thoughts echoed, arguing in his head.

He leant back, falling on a tree he was sure wasn't there a moment ago - at least relative to him. He was by the edge of the clearing now, back to the forest. His musings did bring up a good point, or, at least, an interesting one. Was he the one moving? Or did he literally move the whole world every time he teleported?

Given observing the verse from outside of it was impossible, or would at least be very hard to do. But even if one could look from outside, and note that only Dane seemed to move, there was no way to show that Dane wasn't simply moving them as well. It was a silly question, and most would deem the answer to be no. But Dane, if anything, was self-absorbed. He was the main character of his life, and while with limits regarding his mana, that didn't mean his story didn't revolve around him.

Back at his world, what other important individuals were there? The nobility? The mages' guild? They'd all existed for centuries. There were always more kings, but Dane. Dane was one of a kind. 

He slapped himself.

Stay on topic.

Delving into his own mind, he visualised the connections. Looking at it as if it was a holographic image floating in the air in front of him. He shut out the world, ignoring the breeze, the grassy smell mixed with the faint sweet aroma of jungle fruits. And the itch on his nose.

None of those existed.

Just him, his mind, and some links to be fixed.

As before, he focused on teleportation, hoping to stimulate something, eyes closed firmly.

Nothing.

That didn't mean that something wasn't happening, however. He'd learnt that the last few times, and at some points it happened without him even willing himself somewhere. Or maybe he had, and just forgot. A quick passing thought. Dane had a lot of those.

Regardless, his feet were still on the floor, and his back still against tree bark. He hadn't moved, unless it had been to a similar position. But so far, he didn't think he had any way to map out his environment without sight, so it was unlikely he could have teleported in that way - although his mental map of the area was fair, he hadn't exactly been paying attention to the positioning of the trees, just the rough layout of the camp. 

I need a shower.

Thinking was hard. His mind refused to stay where he wanted it to. Which was strange, on a normal day he'd be more interested in having fancy powers to play with, but today he just felt apathetic.

I'll figure it out eventually. Why does it matter when?

He leant forward, then slammed the back of his head into the tree. The bark dug in, drawing a few droplets of blood. Biting his lip, he glared at the inside of his eyelids. That was a dangerous attitude.

Laziness, not even in the form of efficiency. He'd personally judged that trait to be rarer in him than anger. 

What can you use?

This was unknown. Dane had nothing to comprehend and process the new power.

Think.

Except, perhaps, another ability from a similar source that he'd already decythered. Shrugging, he continued with his prior pursuit, this time attempting to analyse his own mind with a similar technique to when linked him with Malon, and the strawberry. 

It was strange, like being both inside and outside his mind at the same time. Trying to concentrate on both the self-telepathy and teleportation at once was mentally draining. 

Sweat dripped from his brow.

A flicker.

A small imaginary light, jumped about Dane's mind - as viewed with his mental powers.

And then another, and another.

Connections, strings, intricate ribbons, he could 'see' all of it. And, somehow, he was able to intuitively find those revolving around teleportation.

He tore them out, reforging them. It was less like brain surgery and more of an instinct. Retrospectively, it was fairly simple. Although, most things seemed like that - besides some of the purer or more abstract aspects of mathematics.

Opening his eyes, he rubbed his head, absorbing the blood back into his body as Omnilium while healing the small wound.

He snapped his fingers after concentrating for a few seconds, landing back on the roof.

Stumbling from the strange sensation, he grinned. This was definitely going to be fun.

But first, I've got to test my limits.

I'll probably stick about for an OOC week, maybe longer if people wanna rp together. Dane is just teleporting about at the moment, he thinks he's sussed it out.

[Gamzee Makara]

Mmf. Yep. Yeah. Yup. There it is.

Yeahp.

I roll forward on my hands and knees. My hands clutch the dew laden grass but my head and stomach keep tumbling and spinning. A stream of neon rainbow vomit is ejected from my pie-hole, soaking the ground in vibrant shades of red, yellow, blue, green, purple, and everything in between. Welp, at least it tastes like sugary, fruity stomach acid as opposed to the regular kind.

My whole bonecasing is a shakin' an' I got all this shit sifting in and out of my thinkpan, like sand through a strainer. Touch fuzzy get dizzy, amirite? Or maybe it's the other way around. Or not? It feels like fuzzy AND dizzy, ya know? It's like, from the neck up, errything is vibrating. Rattling on a supersonic sorta level, like it was struck with a sort of resonator from beyond the...whatever is out there, I guess. Man, what a time to be alive. Am I alive, even? My eyes are locked on the puddle of sparkly rainbow goop. I'm still on my hands and knees, but I decide that maybe I'm a lil' tired. I roll over onto my back, making sure to keep a decent distance from my uh...discharge. My eyes are a tad glazed over, cloudy even, as if a sort of film enveloped the orange orbs. The little pools of purple in the middle of my eyes shine through the murk, sporadically searching the sky above.

Tearan ain't here no more. How do I know? I don't know. But I do know. I mean...He ain't up there in the sky anymore. Damn sure ain't standing over me, learnin' me the ways of the ants. I felt him in my head. For a lil' while, anyways. After we got sucked into that void. And now I don't? I mean I guess that doesn't mean he's like, GONE gone, but-

Yeah. I don't really wanna think about it. I'm absolutely positively positive that I'll see the Tearman again one day.

For a while, I just lay there. Staring up at the nothingness. I catch glimpses of things I don't recognize, and one or two that I do. Everything's muddy and murky and slimey. Imma try to sort it out, but I don't really think much will come of it.

Or anything else, for that matter. I feel this gnawing, squirming length of sounds and hushing whispers worming their way through my sentience, separate from the influx of memories Tearan tore into our heads.

It ain't a good thing. T'ain't at all.

---

Karkat Post incoming tomorrow probably. Will probably post Gamzee viewing some memories in the astral at some point. Feel free to interact with him at your leisure for now though~ Been a pleasure writing with you lot. Hope to do it more often and soon.

[Guu]

Suddenly, Guu appeared before Gamzee, giving him quite a start.

"Sorry for appearing before you are fully here, but I need to go do something." Stated Guu, her voice sounding insincere despite her intent otherwise. "And I didn't want to take off before acknowledging you."

She placed a box in front of the clown. it was tied in a pretty pink laced bow, a card stuck out that read, "For Gamzee." It glittered in the sunlight.

"A gift for you. Open it when you feel up to it." She gave Gamzee a rare subtle smile. "I hope we can find the time to chill in the future, but for now. I've got work. Adios."

And with that, she flew back into the palace. The octopus man she just created waved a tentacle at her before returning to his sweeping.

The princess sat cross-legged at the far end of the hall. She focused her mind on Tearen's memories, translating them into words. She carefully chose them, tried her best to imitate his voice in her writing. She imagined a book, a tome that held these words. The omnlium started to gravitate from her body. She wasn't sure how long she was there, summoning it. She couldn't imagine a task far greater than the one she was accomplishing right now, so detail was crucial.

Hours passed, converting each sentence, each letter to the omnilium. It was admittedly faster than writing it herself, but it was still quite a daunting task. When she finished, she opened her eyes, and there stood the Tome of Tearen Wover, placed neatly on a wooden pedestal. The princess took a peek inside. Words, illustrations, detailing the prime's life. She felt like she did the man good.

With her task finished she turned towards the new caretaker.

"That is a tome detailing Tearen's life, Protect it."

"Yes ma'am!" He said with a salute.

Guu pulled out her phone. She had got a text thirty minutes ago stating that Tom Nook had already left for the site of the new city. She was probably already late.

"I've got to go. If the others come by, tell them I said 'Hello."

And with that, she took off in the air. She couldn't tell how many of the students had left by that point, she didn't bother to use her senses to check them out. Instead, she headed for the lake, searching for a damn raccoon.

And that's the end of Guu's involvement!

Gamzee has received a living Guu plushie. It can't talk but it can interact with Gamzee and do minor tasks for him. Roleplay it however you want, doesn't matter if she's ooc with the original or not.

Guu has summoned the Tome of Tearen Wover, an outside perspective on Tearen's life from Guu accessing his memories. After this thread is over, anyone can read it.

Because I jumped ahead a bit, if anyone goes to the building, they'll see Guu summoning something in the far end of the main area.. Anyone can interact with Tepp the Octopus if they want.

With that, Guu is done with Genesis of Apotheosis! Thank you all for a good time!

[Dane Regan]

Aaaaannnd...

Ping!

Dane clicked his fingers, mentally grasping the "spell", letting it pull him to his new destination almost eighty metres away. Sweat dripped from his brow, but he grinned. This wasn't so hard.

And, the best part was that he actually understood it. At least in the sense that it utilised principles that he was already familiar with. Secretive magical communication worked by finding a "strand" of magic that connected the sender and receiver - the further the destination, that harder it was to find one, and even the slightest change in conditions could cause the positioning to rapidly fluctuate, meaning the spell had to constantly be adapted. That, naturally cost a lot of mana.

Explaining the "strands" was harder, and depended on the spatial model used. Some claimed there were six, other's seven, some said there were four, or three-and-a-half, and six-and-a-half was another common claim. The "and-a-half" suggestions weren't true in the technical sense, but the way the magic field seemed to work left it up to debate - similar to the initial confusion of light's particle-wave duality. Essentially, there were three main dimensions in space, that much wasn't debated. Three were sometimes added to that to refer to the three spatial dimensions of magic, while others claimed mana was simply an attribute of matter. The latter claim had lost traction in recent years, since the way magic behaved didn't add up. It was more like a three-dimensional piece of cloth draped over the world. 

Comparing to a common example, if you had a hot object, and you moved it, the heat would move with it.

If you charge an object with enough mana, and you move it, a proportion of the mana lingers in its previous position, and ripples outwards.

Confusing, but something that had been held up under lots of tests - it was something Dane took for granted. Essentially, if one could move something through the magical world, moving it left, right, up, down, forwards, or backwards, would not correspond with the same in real space, hence why it was often referred as to having its own three dimensions, even if (technically) it didn't actually add three more orthogonal directions of movement.

The fourth, or seventh, dimension came from how there did seem to be another direction in the magical field, one typically incomprehensible that seemed to connect different points in space. While movement in the other three magical directions was continuous (in that, the absolute distance travelled would always be the same), here, that wasn't the case. Each strand intercepted a distinct unordered pair of points. Various experiments and reasoning had essentially proven that much (although it was up to debate whether there was always a strand connecting two specific points - practically, that didn't matter as there'd always been one close enough for it to work). 

The key problem with the strands, however, was that those two points would only be connected at a given point in time, and even the smallest fraction of a second later, the same strand would be connecting two different locations in space. There was some speculation over a multivariable function in x and t (where x is a three-dimensional position vector and t is time) to output another vector, y, of the position of the other intercept.

Should that actually be true, it would imply that at a given point in time, a strand would always be going through x, assuming it was defined for all t. However, the main problem with it was the already verified possibility for a given strand w to intercept points P and Q, and another strand z to intercept points Q and R at the same time, meaning the function would have to give multiple outputs, infinitely many if all points were always connected (at which point it wouldn't actually be a function anymore).

Often, these strands were referred to as half a dimension, or just a strange magic thing no one really understood much about since they didn't really provide a new axis of movement, just a connection between two points.

Various approximations and research had led to the ability to consistently find the connections for shorter distances of a mile, none of which was Dane's area of expertise - he wasn't really a fan of statistics or "guessing".

Yet that did lead directly into his teleportation.

Everything was connected by something in a very similar way to magic. 

They fluctuated, but after searching for long enough a link could always be found and Dane could project himself through it. Due to how they fluctuated, it almost always seemed to take the exact same time to do, which was strange. Thinking on it, Dane put that up to Omni. That guy liked to mess with people's abilities. Probably something about fairness, which, if that was the case, Dane appreciated it. 

Getting used to increased abilities here in the Omniverse had been interesting, and his personal placement put himself at least in the top 50% strength-wise. Although he only had DA to go off of for that.

Regardless, he had a rough set of rules for how his teleportation worked, and diverse and well thought out ideas for how it worked, most of which he'd get down onto paper later...

...which reminded him of his half finished notes...

...and Cepheya.

He had a lot to do. He meant to do it, it was just, other time-related things kept coming up. He couldn't just miss out on DA, or the opportunity to meet Tearen.

Shrugging, he walked off, passing through the treeline. He saw no reason to linger - making allies could be useful, but Dane wasn't exactly a sociable person. He could pretend to be, but it just felt like too much effort. 

His skin glinted, reflecting a final strained ray of light as invisibility gripped his body. He didn't need to use it, he just liked the ability. It wasn't like its use was limited.

Dane's heading off now. If you leave roughly heading in his direction, I guess he might unstealth if you want to interract. Otherwise, I'm gonna go gank 13 after his bounty goes through.

[Kelly MacAryn]

Thrown far from the collapsing singularity, the traveler lay slumped against a tree, staring at nothing as a quicksilver will-o'-wisp glow rose like candle-smoke from his eyes. 

*     *    *

Expelled from a vision of vivid epistemological totality, Kelly MacAryn plunged towards himself; his returning sense of individuality formed an inchoate psychic comet, cutting a scathing blue scar across the angry green skies of his roiling mind. At the touch of its piercing razor glare, his psyche rebuilt itself, the swirling disorder of new information and ancient memory captured and catalogued by complex mental constructs which erupted from the mire with all the suddenness and efficient brutality of a titanic mechanical mantis come to prey upon the scuttling chaos. 

A tidal storm of sticky associative webs and grasping concept-claws exploded into purposeful life, devouring the mist and darkness with a righteous hunger for structure that was terrifying to behold. They knew exactly what they were doing, exactly where everything fit, swirling and refining and splicing it together with the aurora-glow of the comet until they had made a city - towers of intellect without peak or foundation, great avenues of contemplative thought, libraries of knowledge and skill and catacombs of doubt and regret within a shining edifice of Mind - and still the architects continued, building wider and higher and stranger, spurred by the blinding blueprint within the glow...  

With a modicum of structure restored, the foundations of metaphor shifted.  

Kelly's seat of awareness occupied a table set for one. The glow of the comet was the glow of a candle, sapphire-blue and as sharp as ground obsidian, providing a slowly-growing oasis of piercing light within a world of ebon mist; a maze-like pattern of avenues was traced upon the tablecloth, and his place was set with strange and eager utensils.

There was a menu in his hands. The traveler  scanned the wine-list - a shifting tally of his skills and knowledge, their vintages and vineyards largely water-damaged and illegible. There were several items listed there that surprised him, foreign wines he'd never sampled (but somehow intimately knew), including a fine old frankish blue, noted for its bittersweet chocolaty richness, and subtle notes of Hell.  

He skimmed the appetizers, his opinions, plans, mannerisms, concerns and extant strategies, the surface of his personality in impossible flavorful detail, parsed as text in a language of himself.

The candle flickered. A shape emerged from the haze and, with the unchallenged speed and savagery of a tragedy in a dream, slapped the menu out of Kelly's hands. The shape pulled up an invisible chair on the opposite side of the table.  

Kelly frowned, watching his menu tumble away into a bottomless void. "Who are you? And why did you do that?"


The stranger smiled. 

"Because I got tired of your solipsistic metaphors. You're getting smarter every second as you put yourself back together, and this kind of navel-gazing isn't getting you anywhere."  

Kelly put his elbows on the table and leaned forward, folding his hands under his chin. The candle flame cast his angular face in stark blue highlights and pools of unknowable void, sharply defining him. For the first time since this process began, he felt himself start to really think. 

"You still haven't told me who you are."

The stranger, still undefined, leaned back on his nonexistant seat.

" Technically, I guess I'm that clever little input-management system you've got: your haunt. Our psychic recovery-daemons, and the fallout from Tearen Wover's little excercise in ontological apocalypse, have stirred things up enough in your brain that the two of us are, momentarily, distinct. But that's honestly not important. I've built enough of a personality out of the stuff you left lying around for us to talk to each other, but we don't have long before our little repair-crew puts my components back in their boxes. You need to listen to me." 

Kelly narrowed his eyes. He had a million questions, but he'd regained enough of himself to recognize that asking them wouldn't be an efficient use of his time. "Alright. I'm listening."

The traveler's haunt matched his posture, leaning forward until they were practically eye to nonexistant-eye. 

" If you were to think of us as a mainframe computer, then what the godmind did to us - what you let him do to us - has caused something like a hard-reboot. Before, most of our past was hidden by a pretty fucking sophisticated system of telepathic locks, bald metaphors, cerebral encryption and carefully orchestrated psychic confusion - but our recovery-daemons are going to chew through most of that like fat kids with candy-floss. Probably only the locks are going to survive, and even those'll be pretty fucking weak." 

Kelly nodded. His lips twitched, eyes sparkling. "Good." 

His haunt shook its head and slapped its blurry hands on the table, shaking the candle and sending the flatware rolling. The traveler flinched back, jolted by the sudden violence, nearly tumbling from his chair. 
 
"No! No no no! Not good! Listen! How do you think we got the way we are, huh? So many friggin' skills, so equipped to survive, but so much of our history lost?"

The undefined figure began to fray, shrinking as Kelly watched, devoured by the suddenly-rising light of the candle, an off-white solar glow so intense that the tablecloth began to smoke.

"This wasn't an accident, Kelly! This isn't some copy-error, some transcriptive bubble-universe botch-job! The very moment we arrived in the Omniverse we did this to ourselves!" 

Kelly squinted in confusion, suddenly stumbling, standing on nothing as the chair collapsed into ash. He held up an arm to shield his eyes from the blinding light as azure flames rose higher and brighter. The fire shrieked, ecstatic, erupting from the candle and engulfing the tablecloth, the table, and everything else save the traveler himself. Floating cinders, drifting like snow in the void,  formed intricate strands of gossamer aurora as the psychic's mind thundered towards complete reconstitution; His visitor was gone. 

"... but that doesn't make any sense," he said.

There was no response, at first, but as the now all-pervasive glow reached a crescendo, a last whispered warning drifted from within. 

"Don't push too far. Some memories are like a loaded gun." 

[Kelly MacAryn]

True awareness arrived quietly this time, heralded by the vague impression of a soft-but-significant click. Awash in a tide of gently rising clarity, Kelly's eyes opened, his higher senses expanded, and his thoughts began to spin. The traveler shifted his weight, the heel of his boot digging a small trench in the black soil as he straightened one of his legs. Brushing the ticklish fronds of a fern away from his face, his gaze sharpened as he turned his focus inward,  taking stock of his faculties.

He wasn't the same. The phantom walls and roiling fog that had populated the idea-space behind his eyes were gone, replaced by a metaphor of billions of efficiently-shifting sapphire panes, floating in a matte-gray void; Some were windows, some resembled blades, others owned wild and nameless forms. As his thoughts ticked over, jumping from observation to association to evaluation, collating and processing and criticizing, the gleaming and seemingly boundless array changed instantaneously: a constant progression of seamless cognitive states.

Within the fenestrated constellations of his brain, many of the windows were dark; These, Kelly knew, contained memories. The psychic sensed it instinctively; he could feel them flickering past him, phantom impressions that informed his thoughts and actions:  sources for his sourceless ideas and methods. If he focused, they fell into a stable orbit, his experiences shining stark and available beside the darkened panes of lost history, and diamond packets of alien information – fruits of the psychic's recent apotheosis: gifts of memory and knowledge from Tearen Wover and fragments of identity gleaned from his disciples' minds.

It was all within reach, like a friend spotted in a crowd - available at the call of a name, the judicious use of a cross-walk, a shoulder-barging march through the masses. With a little circuitous effort, he could break through and drag the truths of his past from their brittle vaults.

Only now he wasn't sure he wanted to.

Ever since Omni brought me here I've been convinced I was forgetting something important; Is this it? My own culpability for my memory issues?

It doesn't feel right. It doesn't fit. It's significant, certainly – It changes my entire psychological paradigm – but it lacks urgency. If I had to guess, the thing my subconscious has been prodding me about is part of whatever memories I went to such lengths to bury.

Which I suppose brings me to the most irritating question ever posed: Can I take my own advice?

He didn't know the answer; There was so much he wanted to know about himself, so much hinted and half-remembered. On the other hand, assuming that the transient entity which had spoken to him while his brain rebooted wasn't a trick or hallucination implanted by the God-mind towards some unknown purpose, then Kelly felt safe in reasoning that he must have had some extremely strong motives to lock so much of himself away.  

Ponderously, the traveler rose, kneeling among the ferns. A cloud of rich miasma boiled from where his boots disturbed the earth as he put his hand on his denim-clad knee and levered himself to his feet. Upright once more, Kelly turned and looked back in the direction of the clearing from which he'd been so unceremoniously thrown. Through the tangled emerald fronds of forest undergrowth, he could see the classically-styled pavilion, battered and blasted by the tidal forces and ensuing explosion of the psychic singularity that had consumed them all. He caught glimpses of Tearen Wover's disciples as they milled about, absorbing their new perspective and experimenting with their powers; their presences in the psychic landscape were crisper now, though still unpolished.

Absently, he noted that both Guu and Tearen seemed to have left.

Irritated at his own indecisiveness, Kelly shook his head and set to navigating his way back out of the underbrush. The traveler moved with deftness and precision, aware of every gnarled root and twisted vine, every bird and insect whispering radio-spectrum neurological noise, but he remained introspective; Even leaving aside the question of whether to delve into his past despite the warning he'd received, he had a lot to think about.

Kelly had gotten what he'd come here for: Tearen Wover's experiences and knowledge. More than that, he'd received a deep understanding of the God-Mind's philosophical background - the very keys to his power. The content of those revelations, however, posed their own problems: chiefly, why did the recollection of his recent cosmic apotheosis feel simultaneously so routine and so anathema? His overall perspective hadn't changed as near as he could tell, though he could recapture the feeling of ontological oneness with only minor effort.

As he strode back into the sunlit clearing, the psychic's mind attempted to serve him the answers. The memories were slippery, but pliant. They whispered of chaos, tragedy, and triumph, and in spite of himself he heard a voice from the past.

“You,” it whispered, worried, proud and astonished, “are an intruder here, on every conceivable level: an existential principality. Your mere presence in our lands sends ripples thro-

Just as the full context threatened to spill over, Kelly disengaged, refocusing his mind. If he was going to finally plumb the hidden and potentially dangerous depths of his memory, he'd prefer to do it systematically, in a place and time of his choosing.

Besides, now that he had actually re-entered the clearing his higher senses were painting a vivid picture: not all of the recently-enlightened were faring as well as he was; One in particular, a slim young woman in a cheerful dress with her long blue hair pulled back in a thick braid, lay propped against a pillar, glassy-eyed and staring at nothing. A feral-looking man with a mop of wild snowy hair, his body covered in scars, crouched over her, face pinched with concern.

The man Kelly recognized, from watching Dante's Abyss and researching Darkshire – and both of their identities were readily brought forth from the God-Mind's memories.

Strazio Rockwell and Malon... though I guess she's in disguise right now? Regardless, it looks like she's having difficulties processing all this. I'm the most powerful telepath still present; I should probably help.

And ethical altruism aside, forging stronger ties to this particular group of people will probably have long term strategic advantages...

Kelly picked his way through the central pavilion, taking a couple of seconds to fix his ponytail as he went. His booted footfalls sounded hollow on the cracked and riven tiles. His iron-shod quarterstaff, missing until now, caught his eye, lying among the debris;  A moment's focus and it leapt into his hand, impacting his palm with a quiet slap.

Strazio looked up, grimacing as he spotted the traveler approach.

“You're the guy who showed up to Wover's whatever-this-was at the last possible minute. Who the fuck are you, anyway?” the mage growled, his whole body tensing as he unconsciously clenched his fists.

Kelly halted his advance, and answered with a thin, amiable smile. “My name is Kelly MacAryn. I'm not your enemy, Strazio – in fact, we've fought on the same side before, although we managed to miss each other at the time.”

The traveler dug beneath his shirt, producing the Emblem of Darkshire he'd been given for his service to the city. Recognition flickered across Rage Mage's face, but he didn't relax.

“That's great. Fantastic; But I'm dealing with something here, so you've got two choices: either Help Out or Fuck Off.”  

“Helping is why I'm here,” Kelly said, closing the remaining distance between them and kneeling down in front of the catatonic woman. “I've been a psychic for much longer than the rest of this conclave. I felt her distress, and I've got some insight regarding her condition.”  

Strazio's frown deepened, becoming a little bit less like a growl. “Okay. So what's wrong with Maru?”

Kelly shifted his weight, boots scraping on the tile, and placed his staff across his knees. The traveler extended a scarred hand above Malon's dilated, staring blue eyes, and brushed the surface of her mind with his own. Clinically detached, he observed the weft and form of her consciousness without immersing himself in the content, confirming his suspicion.

“We've all ended up with a certain amount of psychic debris in our minds,” he said, withdrawing his hand and blowing a stray strand of dark hair out of his face, “bits and pieces of each-other's pasts and personalities. I've filed mine away for reference and ease-of-access, and you seem to be handling yours, but Maru's having problems keeping herself separate from the echoes of the rest of us. She's caught in a kind of mnemonic riptide.“

Strazio struck his fist against the floor, eliciting a dull, meaty thwack. A fresh crack appeared in the tiles. “I figured it would be some kind of telepathic bullshit. Alright, I'm listening. How do we fix it?”

Kelly rose smoothly to his feet. He arched his back, popping his spine. “She'll probably come out of it on her own eventually, but there are things we can do to speed up the process. First, we should put her someplace more cozy; There's a chaise-lounge over there that doesn't look too damaged. Once she's resting comfortably, I'm a skilled enough psychic to help guide her recovery.”

The Avatar of Rage glowered for a moment, then nodded, scooping up Malon in his scar-ravaged arms and standing effortlessly, as though she didn't weigh anything at all. “Okay. As much as I hate to admit it, you're the expert.  But if you mess this up, there'll be hell to pay.”  

One corner of the traveler's mouth twitched, but otherwise his expression didn't change. The two drastically different men, their charge in tow, made their way over to the only slightly-battered maroon fainting-couch that Kelly had indicated earlier. A brief wind kicked up, ruffling Strazio's shock-white hair.  Torn silk curtains wafted and spiraled as the breeze moaned through the damaged pavilion. Although it remained sunny and warm, the air smelled like rain.

Strazio deposited his wide-eyed burden face-up on the couch, taking a moment to make sure her head was supported comfortably, and asked, “So now what?”

Kelly propped his staff against a nearby column and placed his hands on either side of Malon's face. His eyes, much the same shade as hers, seemed to retreat slightly, lurking in their caves. “For you, the boring part. For me – a short telepathic jaunt.”

He closed his eyes, probing passive clarity, raw awareness flowing like water through porous rock. Softly, like a song on the breeze, he infiltrated her mind.

“Malon?”